


Our Little Vignette

by Elcie



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, I had no plot only vibes, kind of, prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24111526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elcie/pseuds/Elcie
Summary: Honeymaren  smiles at her, bright as every island sunset, settling on the cliffs of mountains. “I knew at that moment that our fingers were drawn together like this - like a helm. We could be in love with different pine trees and snow trails, but our footprints would still land on the same pathway.”Some musings on how Elsa sees Honeymaren as Autumn
Relationships: Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 34





	Our Little Vignette

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! It's my first time writing for the Frozen fandom, and I hope you like my work :>
> 
> Also my brain refused to come up with a plot, only a vibe. Which was autumn, and Elsa just loving her girlfriend.

Elsa doesn’t know why, but Honeymaren reminded her of autumn. The time when the leaves fall gently down to the ground, the slight chill that inhabits the air as the winter months approach, the cycle that always comes and goes.

They’re at this quaint cafe that Maren had insisted on visiting. The tables are all made of mahogany wood, tiny benches barely fitting the two seated across each other. Classical music playing on the speakers, mostly filled with students on their laptops, or with their group of friends catching up as well. The door opens, and a group of teenagers enter, bringing the cold air with them. On one table, a couple is holding hands, their knees touching where they think no one can see.

“So what do you think?” Maren takes a seat beside Elsa, sliding across a hot chocolate towards her, fingers meeting, touching oh so gently as she reaches towards the handle. In the soft velvety hue of the cafe, Elsa feels a warmth spread where their fingers made contact.

“It’s nice.” Elsa hums, not bothering to elaborate. Maren doesn’t ask either, sipping from the drink she also bought. But the silence isn’t uncomfortable. Instead, it’s filled with a warm and pleasant feeling. The same way Honeymaren grabs her hand and fits the pieces of Elsa in her palms. The waves of her bones are slipping so easily inside of Elsa. 

On the bright side, dry leaves are starting to fall. Streets are decorated with brown and orange leaves, blending together in a mixture of a dull and bright color. The sky is also turning mellow, the kind of color Elsa associates with home.

“Did you know that the moon belongs to the sun,” Honeymaren says after a few minutes of comfortable silence, thumb absentmindedly caressing the back of Elsa’s hand “But their love isn’t enough to destroy the distance?”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Shakespeare?” Elsa laughs, trying to swallow the nervousness in her throat. Sometimes, she tries to think of ways to describe the woman beside her but they tie themselves up and slice themselves into Oblivion. The difficulty of stringing them into a coherent sentence. 

But, Honeymaren is so graceful. The way she can manipulate them the way Elsa can’t. Flowing freely and creating a beautiful piece of art. 

Elsa knows she isn’t good with words, not even good in what she feels. If she were to describe Honeymaren as a color, she would be the same color as a cherrybark oak. A light reddish brown, a proud color that stands strong yet humble. Sturdy. Beautiful. Elegant. Or the same color of the sunset. 

“It means,” Maren giggles, sliding even closer to Elsa. Enjoying the classical music, the hustle and bustle of the cozy cafe. “I don’t think of us like the sun and moon.”

Elsa ducks away from Maren’s gaze, like the sun attempting to steal a slightest glance of the moon, terrified that she might get caught staring at something she’s not supposed to. 

Maren is strong, no doubt about that, the way she handles the bites and taunts of those who don’t know her. She is heavy-- hard even to those who jeer. Firm, unwavering in their gazes as she knows where her roots are planted. There’s no need to question where she comes from. Her firm character serves as a great pillar for her friends, a pillar for support. Comfort. Never backing down or crumbling when they need something to lean on.

But when her autumn comes, she is still strong. Still proud. Her leaves, her skills shining bright red as they spread around. Almost as if she were blooming instead.

Her friends will help her through her winter, as she does with theirs. 

“So what do you think of us?” Elsa is tracing prose on Maren’s skin, trying to find the ghosts of the back of her knees so that she could get to know them. 

Elsa swears, Maren makes her feel magical in a way fictional spirits can’t. The way she makes her heart beat in tune with hers, a feeling of warmth rushing in her veins when all there’s been is the cold she’s known. Fingers fluttering like embers on Elsa’s cold skin.

Even if they weren’t the sun and moon, Elsa muses, Maren would always be her sun. Wrapping her arms around Elsa’s body, until she was the only thing Elsa could see. Maren’s love is a solace, and she doesn’t want to miss a single rising. Elsa can describe Maren as the sun, but the girl would always shine brighter. Elsa can almost taste her breath – light, intoxicated, addicting.

Honeymaren smiles at her, bright as every island sunset, settling on the cliffs of mountains. “I knew at that moment that our fingers were drawn together like this - like a helm. We could be in love with different pine trees and snow trails, but our footprints would still land on the same pathway.”

“What do you think of us, Elsa?” Honeymaren smirks, knowingly, the kind that makes Elsa’s skin crawl and her heart twist into knots at the same time — the kind where Elsa feels herself exposed to the fact that she’ll always find her body crawling back to the sun.

“Not fair,” Elsa pouts, squeezing Maren’s hand. Her face immediately goes flushed. “You know I’m not good with words like you are, Miss Poetic!”

Elsa takes a long sip of the hot chocolate, but still, Maren made her feel so much warmer than this.

“You don’t have to be poetic, Elsa. You just have to be honest.”

“Well. . . I think of you as Autumn. And myself as Winter, I guess?”

“Is it because your hands are always so cold to the touch?” Maren teases, suppressing a giggle by taking another sip. It was moments like these that made her fall for Maren. Lighthearted and kind, like there was no other way to be with her than this.

“Winter is always waiting for Autumn, the same way I’ll always wait for you. Autumn feels like home, I just think that you’re home.” Elsa tells her, burying her blushing face against Honeymaren’s arm. The awkwardness Elsa had came off as endearing to her, innocent and pure.

“The way seasons are entwined with each other?” Lifting Elsa’s chin to face her, mirth twinkling in her chocolate brown eyes. “The way it’s the natural balance of things? The way they act as perfect parallels to each other?”

And in the silence, their mouths meet like bridges, like an autumn breeze and puzzle piece connecting to form an image, while the afternoon glow of the sun dances pink, like pearls, on their entwined bodies. A feeling of cider skies, and Saturday wishes.

Elsa says, “Or maybe, simply, our souls are just connected.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave a kudos and a comment! :D
> 
> Support me by checking out my twitter! My Twitter is [ here. ](https://twitter.com/rambleengs)  
> 


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